


Three times baking relaxed Stiles, and the one time it stressed him out.

by MaroonDragon



Series: Sucker Punched [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cute, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Slash, Slash, Steter - Freeform, Stress Baking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 17:35:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6124670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaroonDragon/pseuds/MaroonDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A gift to SolarFox, who wanted to read more of Stiles' stress baking. </p><p>It's part of the Sucker Punch storyline, which would make some things a little clearer, but it can be read as a stand-alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three times baking relaxed Stiles, and the one time it stressed him out.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [solarfox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/solarfox/gifts).



1.

Stiles loves to bake. It’s one of the few things he used to do with his mother that hadn’t been tainted by her later mood swings as her illness had progressed. It’s also something he does when he’s stressed out.

 

Peter had never actually seen Stiles bake though. The guy always showed up at the gym with a variety of heavenly goodies that would be quickly emptied out by the rest of the team. Peter will never ever admit to the corny warmth that filled him at the sight of the box labelled with his name, containing his favourite cookies. So maybe he had pouted a little when he had arrived too late the last time to take a few. Stiles taking notice of it was nothing important.

 

It’s a late Friday night, and Peter is about halfway through the latest novel he had picked up, when there is a knock at his door. Stiles had seemed jittery earlier that day, but he had expected a call. Instead, he gets a whirlwind of paper bags and thrown out apologies as Stiles stalks into his kitchen like he own it.

 

“Stiles, what are you doing?” He asks the moment there seems to be a break from Stiles’ verbal diarhea.

 

“I’m sorry, but I really can’t sleep. Derek’s match is tomorrow, and I just wanted to bake, but my mixer broke, and my dad has Melissa over, so I can’t go there….” Stiles continues jammering as he pulls out ingredients, and if Peter didn’t know him better, he would believe him to have gone into a full breakdown.

 

“Stiles, Derek will do fine. Your training works. You saw his earlier practice with Boyd.” There is a noise of agreement, but Peter doesn’t get the idea that Stiles actually heard any of it. Resigning himself to a night of hearing Stiles putter around in his kitchen, he pours them both a glass of wine, and settles again on the couch. He’ll talk to the guy when he’s actually calmed down a little.

 

* * *

 

2.

The second time Stiles shows up, it’s not actually clear why he needs to bake. He doesn’t really tell Peter much, and he knows for a fact that there are no matches or other stress-inducing situations going on in Stiles’ life. His last date hadn’t gone horrible, and there were even some plans for a second one –not that Peter cared about that of course-.

 

He’s gotten fairly used to Stiles going a little catatonic whenever he’s really worried about something. There are two reasons why Stiles will stop talking. He’s either horrifically mad at you, Peter had taken the brunt of that several times, or he’s so lost in thoughts he forgets to talk to the people actually around him.

 

Peter pours Stiles a drink as usual, and when he goes to place it on the kitchen counter, he spots Stiles’ phone. It’s given a prime location, as if at any moment there could be a phone call or text that will either doom Stiles, or give him his salvation. He doesn’t ask about it, because he knows he will not get an answer. Instead, he keeps a careful eye on Stiles and settles at the breakfast bar rather than the couch.

 

It’s four AM when Stiles’ phone chimes with a message, and Peter’s counter and table are currently filled with freshly made cookies, finely decorated cupcakes, and Stiles is right in the middle of pulling out a cherry pie that smells divine.

 

The perfectly shaped cherry red godliness is a little bit ruined by Stiles’ hasty moves to ditch it on the counter to get to his phone. The moment he reads his text, all the worry seems to just slide right off him.

 

“He’s okay…he’s fine..” The smile on Stiles’ face is brighter than the sun, and while Peter still doesn’t get it, he’s happy for him.

 

They devour the cherry pie, along with a cup of tea, while Stiles tells him about the sting operation his father had been coordinating that evening, and that the sheriff could have gotten seriously injured taking the drug cartel down. The text had been sent to reassure Stiles he had made it out alive.

 

The local soupkitchen is delighted with all the treats Stiles brings around the next day. After he helps Peter clean up the mess he made in the kitchen of course.

 

* * *

 

3.

The third time Stiles doesn’t come to Peter, but it’s the other way around. He’s called to actually pick up some more ingredients and deliver them to Stiles’ apartment. As much as Peter hates being treated like a delivery boy, he knows that there will be treats at the end of it.

 

So maybe he is a bit like a dog playing fetch, and being rewarded for his troubles. If you had Stiles’ fudge brownies, you would be just as eager to do errand runs.

 

When he gets to the apartment, the first thing he sees are two very much empty wine bottles. The noise of some horribly depressing band fills the space, and Stiles looks ridiculous all covered in flour, making grabby hands for the stuff Peter brought along.

 

He can’t help but wonder if he should take the spatula away from Stiles, and actually keep him out of the kitchen. There is no swaying though, and considering the fine lacework on one of the already finished creations, he figures Stiles will be fine.

 

It’s not until he hears the story of Scott coming by a little earlier to show Stiles the ring he had bought to propose to Allison that Peter gets it. Stiles is in one of his ‘I’ll be forever alone’ moods. He wonders what it says about him that Stiles deigns it necessary to include him in those pity parties? Should he understand him better because he’s also ‘forever alone’ or is he supposed to be the one to actually end Stiles’ streak. To be fair, he had made attempts to rectify Stiles’ feeling of being alone, but it’s not his fault he’s been rejected.

 

He lets Stiles be gloomy for a little while, but then he decides to change the music to something more cheerful, and forces the guy to teach him how to make decorations from sugar. He’s enough of a disaster at it that Stiles manages to laugh again.

 

* * *

 

+1.

 

“Stiles it looks amazing. You don’t need to make five different versions.” Peter huffs, running a hand through his hair as he shuffles out of the bedroom. “You do actually want to look a bit rested tomorrow.”

 

“I just want to get these roses perfect. They look like they’re wilting!” Stiles looks a little manic around the edges, and Peter honestly worries about him.

 

“Stiles, the roses look perfect already. If you continue like this the entire cake will be covered in roses.” There are various trays of perfectly shaped petals in front of Stiles, each more neatly done than the next.

 

“Peter, it’s four tiers. I can make more roses. It should be perfect. I’m still worried that the white fondant will not hold enough…and what if people want something else than the vanilla and cream. Are you sure I shouldn’t have two chocolate layers as well?”

 

Peter shakes his head in fond amusement, wrapping an arm around Stiles’ waist. “Stiles, it’s our wedding. They damn well eat what we put in front of them. Your cake looks absolutely stunning, and if they don’t like the vanilla and cream, then they can have some of the other snacks you’ve created because you refused to have a catering for the baking.” He pointed out, tugging Stiles away from the kitchen counter and back into their bedroom. Their tuxes are already hanging on the closet door, neatly pressed and ready for them in the morning. That is, if Stiles actually manages to get some sleep and doesn’t miss his own ceremony.


End file.
